


The Whore King of Lucis

by fiveclawedfics



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, M/M, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 03:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13966797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveclawedfics/pseuds/fiveclawedfics
Summary: The peace treaty between Lucis and Niflheim is sealed with a marriage between the Lucian prince and the Niflheimr chancellor--a match that, against all odds, appears to be well made. Six months later, long after the fall of Insomnia, a trucker picks up a hitchhiker outside Lestallum.These two events are not unrelated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the FFXV Kink Meme:
> 
> "look I don't know what the scenario is here but someone refers to Noct as "the whore king of Lucis." (or it can be genderbend with girl Noct as the whore queen)
> 
> up to you whether it's just an insult, it's said in the heat of the moment by his sex partner, it's deserved, he's forced into prostitution by Niflheim, seriously anything."

Ramsus picked up the kid just outside of Lestallum, skinny little thing standing by the road in an over-sized hoodie, with a shitty buzzcut and the kind of stubble that screamed "lack of razor" rather than "fashion statement." There were tons of people like that on the roads these days, worn-down women grey with exhaustion, men with babies clinging to their sides, little kids with suspicion beyond their years written across their faces. Insomnia had fallen months ago, but the city continued to spew out refugees, each one smelling like fresh meat to the many predators that lay in wait, human and otherwise.  
  
"Thanks," the kid says as he climbs into the truck's cab. "I'm heading to Hammerhead."  
  
"I can get you to Coernix Station, but I turn south after that," Ramsus tells him. "And I'm planning on spending the night at Lingagh Haven. Hope you're fine with that."  
  
"It's your truck," the kid shrugs. "I can bear a night outside."  
  
"Then we're set. I'm Ramsus, by the way."  
  
"Marcus," the kid says, then pulls his hoodie up and stares out the window.  
  
 _Rude,_  Ramsus thinks. The kid doesn't say a word for the next ten miles, and Ramsus begins to wonder if this was such a good idea. Marcus doesn't have anything but the clothes on his back, but then he could still be keeping a knife in his pockets. After passing by so many of these miserable-looking Lucians, Ramsus couldn't pass by another, but desperation pushes people to bad decisions.  
  
With no conversation forthcoming, he switches on his podcast instead. The hoodie twitches when the narrator continues his discussion of Queen Acantha LXII's reign. "Not a fan of history?" Ramsus asks, and winces at the edge in his voice.  
  
Marcus doesn't answer long enough for Ramsus to wonder if he's taken offense, but then he says, "Wasn't my best subject in school."  
  
"Me neither, but I got into it when I started trucking. This guy--" Ramsus waves at the sound system. "--he really gets down to the heart of things, makes you think what it was like to live in those days. And it really kills the miles, too." He squints, sees a smudge on the horizon. "Coming up to the checkpoint already," he mutters.  
  
He'd been speaking more to himself, but the hoodie whips around. "Checkpoint?" Marcus's voice is even, but his blue eyes are wide.  
  
"Hey, hey, hey, it's nothing to worry about. More an excuse to wring money out of honest truckers than anything else. A guy will ask for my papers and a couple of MTs will look through the trailer. Don't worry about it."  
  
"Nothing to worry about," Marcus repeats, but as they get closer to the checkpoint he begins to slide down in his seat. By the time Ramsus pulls to a stop, the kid has slid all the way off, huddling in a ball. He doesn't come up either after they leave the checkpoint, till Ramsus says, "Kid. They're far behind."  
  
He wants to say more, but he doesn't know what. Music doesn't seem right, and nor does the podcast, so they sit in silence for a long time. Finally Marcus says, "I'm guessing you're from Insomnia." He gets an affirmative grunt. "I, uh, heard stories what it was like. What happened. You--you got served a shit sandwich, kid."  
  
"No kidding," Marcus says. He lets out a long sigh. "Is it still standing? Insomnia, I mean. Haven't seen it since the invasion."  
  
"I haven't had a route take me there since the roads opened again. Every refugee I've met says there's still plenty of people, though. And, well--" He doesn't know how to say this, not without sounding like an asshole, but maybe Marcus should hear it. "--The war's all over. There won't  _be_  another invasion. The Niffs usually rebuild the cities they destroy, anyway."  
  
"It's not over," Marcus says. Not angry, not defiant, just a statement of fact.  
  
"Yeah, I heard all the rumors, too. They say Commander Leonis is going to start a resistance, keep the battle going. And, y'know, best of luck if he can do it. But shit, if Insomnia couldn't win with the power of the Lucii behind it, how the hell could they pull it off without the king?"  
  
Six damn him, he's really put his foot in his mouth this time. What a thing to say to some poor fucked-up kid with everything he knows in ruins. Ramsus is still cursing himself when the kid says, "There's still the prince. King now, I guess."  
  
"Yeah, the Whore King of Lucis," Ramsus snorts, because apparently he is a  _giant asshole_  today.  
  
While he's still trying to figure out how  _not_  to sound like a prick, Marcus asks, "Is everyone calling him that now?"  
  
"Well. I mean. Him and the chancellor, they were like lovebirds after their wedding. And. Y'know. He swore his loyalty to the Niflheim emperor. They didn't have to drag him in chains or anything, he went and knelt and kissed the emperor's hand all on his own." What Ramsus doesn't say is,  _The prince is too busy taking the chancellor's cock to care about his people, and even if he_ does _care, he doesn't have the fire of his ancestors._  He's not THAT much of an asshole, at least.  
  
Marcus doesn't talk for a long time, and when he does, it takes Ramsus a moment to connect his words back to their conversation. "Yeah, I guess it is a pretty accurate description." He doesn't say anything else until they reach Lingagh Haven, and says barely more the next day, either.


	2. Chapter 2

_The Whore King of Lucis._  It is technically a true statement, if not in the way the trucker meant. Noctis is from Lucis, and he is a king, and he has bartered his body a couple of times to get that much farther from Niflheim. He doesn't have anything these days but his mind and his body, and his body is very pretty indeed. Prettiness is its own currency, especially if you're willing to follow through. And Noctis has. The people who had fucked him were nothing worse than scum looking for a slick hole to stick their dicks in. He'd been fucked by worse. Willingly, even, at one point.

* * *

  
In that first month, his marriage seemed--well, not too good to be true, but as good as he could have expected. The deal with the marriage was the best the Niffs would offer, so Noctis had agreed to it--pushed for it, even. Lucis was more important than one person.   
  
Regardless, he was quietly frightened when he walked into the bedroom on the night of the wedding. It was one thing to agree to the  _concept_  of marriage, another to walk into a room where a man the age of his father--a stranger from an enemy country--was waiting to fuck him. But the chancellor was gentle, patient,  _kind_ \--found every sensitive spot on his body, played him like an instrument until he was spread out and gasping, shuddering against the fingers relentless against his prostrate, begging for more. Afterwards, when the chancellor slid out, Noctis curled against the other man, blissed out and boneless from orgasm. "Thanks," he said, once his mind reassembled itself.  
  
The chancellor started against him. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
Noctis flushed, because it somehow felt too stupid to say out loud. "Um. For this. You didn't--you could have--uh. It was very nice. You've. Uh. You've been good to me. Tonight." It occurred to him that he hadn't reciprocated much, and with some embarrassment added, "I hope you enjoyed it, too."  
  
Ardyn stared at him, truly astonished. Something flickered in his eye, then, and he pushed Noctis down to bite a line of hickeys down his neck, already hard again. "Oh  _Noctis_ ," Ardyn said, and his name sounded like honey on the other man's tongue, "I have  _thoroughly_  enjoyed myself."  
  
They fucked on every flat surface in their living quarters over the next month. Ardyn seemed to take pride in making Noctis scream, in making him come again and again. And when they weren't fucking, they would talk, or Noctis would take his husband around Lucis. He didn't expect to fall in love with the chancellor, but at the very least he thought he could forge a friendship. It seemed to be going pretty well, too, until he woke to the sound of explosions one morning.  
  
He killed Ardyn, of course--ran him through and cut off his head, just to be sure. And then it was the fight, the endless wave of MTs, the monstrous Niff machines clashing with the statues, and good Lucian soldiers falling in droves. Noctis burned through his magic, then burned through his strength, until he was too exhausted to resist the MTs who bound him wrist and ankle and brought him to Ravus. Despair eating at his heart, he laid there, senseless of the passage of time, until his husband walked into his line of sight.  
  
"You're dead," Noctis gasped, the impossibility sending one last bolt of adrenaline through him. He struggled against his chains. "You-- _I killed you_. You're dead."  
  
Ravus cast a disdainful look his way. "Have you gone mad," he had said, as if he had expected as much.  
  
"Oh, do be gentle with him," Ardyn smiled. Had knelt beside Noctis and brushed knuckles against his cheek. A fond gesture that Noctis had enjoyed in the past. "My husband has had a very bad day. It's only natural that he should be a bit confused."  
  
"Don't  _touch_  me," Noctis snapped, trying to pull away, just as Ravus said incredulously, "Don't tell me you're going to keep this sham of a marriage."  
  
"The thought is appealing." Ardyn ran his fingers through Noctis's hair, and he shuddered, bile rising in his throat. "I must confess, you have grown on me, my dear--far more than I ever expected." Those fingers slid to his neck, pressed into the marks left there the night before. "I would be loathe to abandon you."  
  
Ravus  _knew_. Noctis saw it in his eyes--the man knew what Ardyn wanted and grimaced in disgust, yet turned away regardless. _T_ _hat_  more than anything else enraged him at that moment. Ravus couldn't even bear to look at the monsters he had gotten into bed with. "Coward," Noctis ground out, and then again, louder, " _Coward_!"  
  
"Leave him be, sweetling," Ardyn said, and scooped him into his arms. "You need your rest, after all. You've had  _such_ a long day."  
  
Forty-eight hours later saw him in a small room in Gralea, dressed in Niflheim garments, as Ardyn explained in detail the current status of the people of Insomnia, and how that would change if he didn't recite the words on the table before him as expected. So Noctis memorized the words, entered the audience chamber, walked its length alone, and knelt before the Niflheim emperor. Kissed his hand. Recited the oaths, binding and terrible, first in the common tongue, and then in the older dialects of Lucis and Niflheim. He did not need to look to know there were cameras. Locked in his own self-loathing, he barely noticed as the servants deposited him in a car, remained blind to the city's sights as the chauffeur drove him to a well furnished house. This, he sensed, would be his gilded prison. He slumped in a chair in the living room as the servants left, and then--only then--did he allow himself to cry.  
  
It wasn't until Ardyn walked through the door that it occurred to him that the rooms were a little too fine, a little too personalized, to be house arrest. Noctis recognized the look on his husband's face and reached for the Armiger.

Nothing came to hand.  
  
He still fought. Noctis was a prince of Lucis; descended from a line of warrior kings raised to fight the Scourge. Of course he fought, and fought well enough to trash much of the house. Fought past the scrapes on his knuckles, fought past the blows to his face, fought until his husband shattered his leg with an awful  _crack_ \--and even then, tried to push away the arms that wrapped around him to carry him to the bedroom.

When it finished, Noctis remained face down, the insanity of the situation drowning his mind in static. In less than a week, Insomnia had gone from metropolis to ruin. In less than a week, he had gone from a prince to a toy, paraded before cameras when needed, and fucked like a whore when not. A year of negotiations and a month of marriage, all a beautifully-maintained farce, a well-produced performance designed to...what? Lower defenses? Insomnia had been vulnerable for a long time. Why the effort? Why the pretense? "Why?"  
  
Ardyn stirred when the word slipped from Noctis's mouth. "Louder, sweetling."  
  
"Why would you--? What was the--?" Noctis choked on his words, a lump heavy in his throat, and ground his face into the sheets to hide the angry tears spilling out. "What was the point of--of  _everything_?" he managed eventually.  
  
Ardyn did not answer immediately. Instead he began to pet Noctis, fingers light against his back. The man had always loved to touch Noctis. It seemed a normal quirk in a husband who was willing to weather his awkward conversation and terrible cooking with a smile. "Mm. I've put quite a bit of effort to get where I am, darling, and I've been planning to fuck you since before you were born. Really, it would have been a waste not to."  
  
Noctis went rigid. "That--that doesn't--how would--?" The fingers on his back became a palm. Cool tendrils of Lucii magic flowed through him, mending the broken leg and the cracked ribs and the million other wounds he had accumulated. The impossibility left him gasping for breath. "You're not human."  
  
"That's a  _very_  cruel thing to say to your husband, Noct," Ardyn tutted.  
  
"You're--you don't make sense. You're not human. You're--a daemon--?" He began to shake, rolling onto his side and bringing his knees to his chest, as if his back could protect him from the  _thing_  lying beside him. "A god?"  
  
Ardyn chuckled. "Ohhh, Noctis. My lovely, sweet boy." He wrapped himself around Noctis, forcing an arm around him in some awful parody of a lover's embrace. "My darling, my one and only." It seemed impossible to breath--the terror that wracked his body felt primeval--some profound instinct screaming to run, to hide.

Ardyn petted him through it, shushing him like a child when he began to cry. When the horror subsided, Ardyn turned Noctis over to face him. "Is that better?" he asked, smiling like some kindly paternal figure, and booped his nose.

Noctis could unable to answer.  
  
Ardyn stroked his hair for a few minutes, then pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Sweetling," he murmured, "I am much,  _much_  worse than that."


	3. Chapter 3

  
Noctis doesn't remember how long he remained in the despair that gripped him after that night. He never bothered to track the time while in captivity, and those days in particular passed by in a fog. Bits and pieces do linger in his mind--the closet filling up with clothes in his size and style--an entertainment system materializing in the living room--mundane touches that recreated his apartment in Insomnia, driving home that these rooms were to be his residence. He slept a great deal, and spent most of the remaining time channelsurfing.  
  
One night Ardyn slowed to a stop--not as Noctis came close to orgasm, but simply in the middle of the rape. He snuggled Noctis deeper into his lap, played with his nipples, nipped at his neck, stroked the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. Noctis stirred, vaguely surprised with Ardyn had stopped, but otherwise let his body to be maneuvered this way and that. Aside from the first night, Arydn's preferences in bed had not changed; he still enjoyed wringing as much sensation from Noctis's body as he could. Noctis moved as obliged, moaned when prompted, watching from a distance the sensations that shook through the lump of meat that now belonged to Ardyn. "You've been rather quiet lately, darling," the chancellor murmured.  
  
"What do you want me to say?" Noctis muttered, feeling a rare burst of annoyance. Had the man expected him to greet imprisonment and rape with joy?  
  
Ardyn stopped moving completely. For a moment, Noctis thought that his rapist was going to make him beg for more, as he often did. Riled by Ardyn's statement, he decided to make the man work for it. He was helpless against Ardyn's ministrations, but he did not welcome them, and it would take more stimulation to leave him desperate for relief. But Ardyn began to move again, quickly forcing Noctis to finish before following suit in short order. He pushed Noctis off of his lap, dressed, and shut himself in the study, where he would remain until the next day.  
  
The event disquieted Noctis. He had disturbed Ardyn, though how he could not say. Perhaps he really  _did_  expect Noctis to remain amiable after Lucis's fall. Though a master of psychological manipulation, the man himself was not human, and might desire things incomprehensible to humans.   
  
Other changes became clear over time. The rapes became less frequent, with more time devoted to the study instead. Ardyn insisted on conversation as well, on topics ranging from video games to the state of Insomnia, and would not be contented with the few words that Noctis could give. And he seemed to be watching Noctis as well.   
  
Noctis awoke one night, sensed the chancellor's presence, and braced himself for the impending violation. Nothing happened. After some minutes of stillness, he slowly opened his eyes. Ardyn stood beside the bed, fully dressed, a slight frown creasing his face. Though he could not read the chancellor's mood, Noctis knew that he had been caught. He sat up. "...Do you want me?" he asked after a moment, unable to think of anything else.  
  
"Oh,  _Noct_. Are you welcoming me into your arms again?"  
  
He had thought that things could not get any worse, but this was new, terrifying territory. Noctis licked dry lips. "If you'll have me," he tried.  
  
" _If I'll have you_ ," Ardyn repeated, a cruel, mocking tone to his voice. "Is that all you want, Noct? A good, hard fuck?"  
  
An old, forgotten feeling swept through Noctis: rage. Rage, and humiliation. Fingers curling in the sheets, he dropped his eyes to the bed, hating his impotence. "Take what you want," he said at last.  
  
Ardyn threw Noctis down against the bed, knocking the breath from his lungs, and pinning him in place. "Whatever I want, hm? Even though you don't want it? Even if it  _hurts_?" An awful smile curled on his lips. "I can make it hurt so  _very_ much, Noct."  
  
So  _this_  was his limit: he would not fight Ardyn, but he would not-- _could_  not--fake whatever emotion the man wanted from him. "Take what you want," Noctis repeated, "I can't stop you. So--just do it. Get it over with."  
  
Ardyn's grip on his wrists tightened so much that he felt his bones grind together; the handprints would remain for days after. The chancellor left the room in a few angry strides, leaving Noctis shaking in bed, though he could not say whether it was relief or terror.  
  
Several days later, he broke into Ardyn's office.  
  
The chancellor had departed for a week. He informed Noctis over dinner that he was visiting the MT factories the night before, and told him to expect servants to bring him meals. Noctis waited a few hours, then crept into the study to rifle through the desk drawers. Each one was stuffed to the point of overflowing with files, but Ardyn maintained a clear system that made it easy for Noctis to find the most important ones.  
  
Of course  _Insomnia_  was the first folder he read, but it proved to be a dead end. Almost all of the documents dated to before the invasion--MT production numbers, estimations of Lucian defenses, intelligence from Kingsglaive spies (and  _that_  was an unpleasant discovery, if not surprising in retrospect). There were after action reports as well, and a few updates on post-invasion Insomnia. Noctis read those thoroughly--it seemed the appropriate thing for the last Lucii to do--but the reports only left him with a renewed sense of helplessness. No matter the situation, there was nothing he could do to help Insomnia, not even if he could teleport there that very instant. And even if he could, why would its people ever trust the man who had sworn his loyalty to their tyrant conqueror?  
  
Noctis put the file aside, swallowing down the bitterness. Insomnia was irrelevant to him, anyway; he was here to find the key to the chancellor's behavior.  
  
He could only read so much of the file  _Noctis_  before shoving himself away from the desk, too rattled to continue. Much of its contents were psychological profiles of trauma victims, supplemented with their treatments and rates of recovery. All of the subjects resembled him. Ardyn's presence haunted the room, even after Noctis put the file down: the condescension in his voice, the smell of his cologne, the crushing weight of his body.  
  
When calmness returned--or rather, when the panic receded--Noctis was left with the conclusion that Ardyn had been interested in his mental health. His reasons, however, left Noctis baffled. Had Ardyn used these profiles as a guide for torment? The thought made his stomach churn. But beyond the initial deception, Arydn's actions were brutally straightforward, no different from a barbarian using a defeated enemy as a concubine. It seemed absurd that he would need...inspiration, or whatever. But the only alternative that presented itself--that Ardyn wanted to  _mend_  Noctis--was even more absurd.  
  
He dragged himself back to the desk, hoping the remaining papers might provide answers. They didn't. It was mostly excerpts from the Cosmogony or commentaries on the text, heavily annotated in Ardyn's own hand. They were all about the prophecy Luna told him about when they were young, poetic lines about darkness and plague and a king of light destined to save the day. After Noctis found his own name in Ardyn's handwriting in several different notes, he realized that the chancellor believed him to be this king of light. The ridiculousness made him laugh, a bitter, choked-off sound. He couldn't even save himself  _or_  his city, much less the whole world.  
  
None of the other files seemed especially relevant to him, so he paged through them in the order that he found them. They all focused on the same topics that would interest the chancellor of any state, until he opened the file  _Astrals_.  
  
The very first page was a world map marked with each of the gods' locations. Beyond that lay countless descriptions of Shiva's attack on Niflheim: eyewitness accounts, after-action reports, tactical maps of the engagement--everything, Noctis realized with a start, that a commander might want after a major battle. Ardyn had scribbled calculations in the margins of various documents, along with references to modern Niflheimer weapons systems. There were several duplicates from the  _Insomnia_  folder as well. Ardyn had been very interested in the performance of the latest MT weaponry, and the production capabilities of the factories. He still was, Noctis realized; some of the documents were dated to a few days ago. And hadn't the chancellor said that he planned to visit the MT factories when he left?  
  
Everything clicked together, and Noctis put the folder down with shaking hands. Ardyn wanted to kill the gods. Ardyn wanted to kill the gods, and only the Astrals themselves would know what damage he would do to Eos by the time he finished his terrible mission.  
  
Two days later, Noctis fled his gilded prison.  
  
It was much easier to escape than he would have expected. Noctis wrapped a change of clothes and a little bit of food in a piece of cloth torn from the blankets, tucked the key file into his shirt, and climbed out the window. That was it. There was barely any security around Ardyn's home, and no sign of pursuit in the days that followed. It frightened him. Perhaps Ardyn had been counting on his escape. Perhaps he was still dancing on the chancellor's strings. But it didn't matter what Ardyn planned, Noctis eventually concluded. He needed to get the word out before the chancellor destroyed the world.  


* * *

  
  
Coernix Station is a barely there place, just big enough to service cars and keep daemons out. It's the kind of nowhere stop that suits Noctis's needs: bland and forgettable, but with plenty of cars passing through. He opens the cab door as soon as the truck pulls to a stop, ready to get out, when a hand touches his shoulder. Noctis nearly jumps out of his skin--sudden touches give him the creeps--and then he realizes that the trucker  _is_  going to demand payment after all. Six damn the stars, he's only got enough cash to buy crappy instant ramen, and he's so fucking sick of blowing strangers in shadowy truck stop corners. "Look, man, I don't have anything on me. If you were gonna charge for the ride, you should've said something at the start."  
  
"I wasn't going to--You know what, forget it," the trucker snaps. "Go on, get on out."  
  
Well, shit. Noctis itches the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Sorry," he says. "This trip has been--yeah. Sorry. Shouldn't've assumed." He pushes the door open and hops out.  
  
The trucker relents. "Look, kid--I go all over the continent. If you see my truck, you can come on by. The world might've gone to shit, but we all gotta take care of each other, right?"  
  
Who knows, maybe the guy really means what he says: an offer of company, and perhaps a warm meal. The unlikely possibility is enough to bring a bit of a smile to Noctis's lips. "Thanks," he says, and heads towards the station, looking for the next ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter will by Ardyn's perspective of the events. If y'all have any guesses about his reasons/thought process during this story, I'd love to hear them.


End file.
